The shining silver projectile sent a mirage of the scientists quivering face before it tore through his flesh and body tissue and formed an uneven gash in his face, shattering his glasses. Shards of glass flew through the air landing on the floor beside his lifeless body in a pool of his very own blood. I don't know why I did it; it just had to be done. A feeling of great power spread through me, I was playing God. I knew that those lives were not mine to take, but in my eyes, they had to be taken. I tossed the clip of my assault rifle on the floor and carefully slinked out of the room full of dead men in white lab coats dyed red through the ghastly crimson liquid that flowed through their veins. Taking life had become second nature; at first it had seemed so challenging, so morally wrong. But now it seemed like something I would do everyday like think or breathing, neither of which I would be doing if I let one man that crossed me get away. I couldn't risk death, but then again, I hated life… Once again I staggered through the dark hallways, the ominous rooms that were Black Mesa. I didn't know what I was doing here, it seemed like I was just sent to kill. It's funny when you look at your wretch of a life and see that all these years it's been meaningless. As I slowed down through the hallways, I saw an unmistakable trail of smoke. Cigarette smoke to be exact. I followed the faint trail intently until I had reached the source of it, a tall lanky figure with a pasty complexion, hollowed out eyes and a look of pure fear on his face. The cigarette sat limply in his mouth and the smoke in the air hovered darkly over head. He knew he could do nothing, he was help less, useless, call him what you might but in any case he couldn't move, his hand wavered close by his belt holster but his hands never made it. He just sat in awe staring mindlessly at me. The cigarette fell out of his mouth as drops of his cold sweat trickled down his brow onto the floor. I would make this quick and painless. Where the cigarette had been, the barrel of my M- 16 was placed. His eyes seemed to roll back into his head as he bit down on the barrel. I pulled the trigger watching as his brain tissue was splattered against the wall he was facing and his face was unidentifiable. His dark blue helmet concealed his head, and all the blood that flowed freely from it. I turned over his body, checking for anything useful he might have had. In his right pocket I had found his pack of Marlboros, the pack that had killed him. This just proved that smoking was hazardous to your health. In his left pocket laid a keycard. One of value no doubt. I pocketed it and was on my way, facing the large mechanical door that my keycard would aid me with in opening. I walked to the door, a bit hesitant. I felt uneasy, in a few seconds I learned why. As I slid the keycard in, the glass of the door shattered, small pieces of glass spraying everywhere. The glass had torn right into my skin and into my older wounds. Blood once again flowed freely out of my body. The bullets richoted all around me off the walls of thick metal. I could see the defining muzzle flashes of my attackers, but everything else of their appearance was disguised by the darkness. I extended a bloody hand to where my rifle had fallen, trying to find refuge from the gunfire. A piercing piece of glass was stuck in my trigger finger but it had not stopped me from the task at hand. I blindly sprayed the room with bullets, the recoil of my rifle banging against my bloody shoulder. I could feel all the cuts and scrapes in my body, the glass embedded deep into my skin, paining me every time I moved. I stumbled, trying to get to my feet as I continued firing. I half crawled past the door, my rifle stacked upon my shoulder, never ceasing to fire. My discarded projectiles forming a trail behind me. I had almost made it to cover as I heard a disheartening noise. The impassive clicks of my empty weapon. I fell to the ground with a loud thump. I was done for, it was over. I tried to clear my mind and let my eyes roll back into my head not much unlike the man in blue I had capped earlier. I abandoned all hope of escape, only inches away from freedom, I was going to die. Everything went pitch black, I was out cold. Out from fear, from stress, from pain, from death…